


Dusty Books

by SeriousPooBrain



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alcohol, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-05 12:52:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5375945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeriousPooBrain/pseuds/SeriousPooBrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jacob tries to get the reader away from research by being a nuisance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The first of a few fics to post today. This is also posted on Tumblr! Feedback appreciated!

“Jacob! This isn’t funny, I need that!” you exclaimed, standing as tall as you could on your tiptoes, reaching for a book that was just out of your reach.

The young assassin had a massive grin on his face as he held the weathered and dusty book above his head, his other hand on your shoulder effectively keeping you from leaping up to grab it. The steady swaying motion of the train only made it more difficult for you to balance as you shoved your hands against his chest.

Jacob stumbled a few steps back, but successfully kept the book out of your reach, catching you as you lunged. “You’ve had your nose buried in this old thing all day.”

“Well, yes, I promised Evie I would help her with the Shroud,” you grit out, clenching your teeth as you jumped again.

A scoff passed Jacob’s lips roughly as he hid the book behind his back, moving swiftly out of your way. If the scowl on your face was anything to go by, he was in a lot of trouble when you managed to get a hold of him. It didn’t matter how many charming smiles he threw your way, he could be down right infuriating – and right now was one of those times. He didn’t take the Pieces of Eden seriously; he was a brawler, hands on with his approach to dealing with the Templars.

It drove you crazy.

“You need to get off this train. Let’s go to the pub,” he suggested, his hazel eyes gleaming.

“No, I have to finish this, Jacob,” you huffed, taking a step back.

“Oh, come on! Evie’s out with Greenie. We can go have a pint and be back before they even know we’re gone,” Jacob persisted.

You considered the thought, thinking of how lovely it would be to relax with the dashing young assassin. For the last several days you had been pouring over book after book, cramming as much information as you could into your head in hopes that it would click and you would be able to help Evie in her quest for the Shroud. It had gotten you absolutely nowhere, and you didn’t feel any closer to the answer.

No, you had to keep going. She had helped you, now you needed to help her. You sighed softly before shaking your head. “I can’t, Jacob. I promised.”  
“You’re going to have to work for it then, love.”

Narrowing your eyes, you sized him up, watching every movement as he did the same for you. That stupid little mischievous grin was still plastered on his face; at any other point you might have melted, but you really had work to do.

After a few tense moments, you let your arms drop to your sides, turning away to walk back to the desk that was littered with papers. The sudden retreat seemed to pique Jacob’s interest, a frown quickly replacing the cocky smirk that had been there moments before. It wasn’t like you to just give up and walk away from him, even when you were at your angriest.

You felt Jacob approach you cautiously, his mouth opening to say something as the train car gave a sudden jolt. It was the opportunity you had been waiting for, wheeling around to lunge at the book that was now at a more reachable level. Jacob had barely any time to react, catching you as you both toppled onto the couch. The small grunt of surprise that sprang from his lips was extremely satisfying as you wrestled with him. You were never able to get the jump on him, even during your sparring matches. Despite his shoot-first-ask-questions-later mentality, he had an eye for detail and was incredibly good at predicting what you were going to do.

Now that the element of surprise was lost, you were left fighting to gain control using the angle you had fallen at. Jacob immediately dropped the book, one arm coming around your waist and the other coming up to grab a hold of your wrist. The momentum of your struggle sent the both of you onto the floor of the car, grappling now with each other as you desperately tried to get up.

His hot breath ghosted against your cheek as he used the bulk of his body to block you from reaching the book. In one swift motion he snatched it up, rolling onto his back victoriously as you cursed underneath your breath.

Your pride was on the line as much as the precious time you could have been using to continue your research. Everything with the Frye twins was difficult, and this was certainly no exception. Jacob didn’t seem to mind as he lay on his back in the middle of the car, the book back in his hands. His arm lay stretched above his head, his chest heaving as he regained his breath from your little tussle.

Your breath came in similarly ragged pants as you attempted to crawl over him, straining your reach until Jacob grabbed onto your jacket.

“Oh, you’re going to have to do better than that, love,” Jacob teased, that familiar grin slipping back across his lips.

Defeated, you stared at him for a brief moment before you let your forehead rest against his chest. He looked particularly proud of himself, though whether it was because he had won or because you were on top of him you weren’t sure. It was more than likely a combination of the two the way his eyes shone. If he had been any other man this might have been awkward position to be in, but your relationship had grown so rapidly in the little time you had known each other it didn’t matter.

So instead you opted to enjoy it as you listened to his heart beat even out underneath you. He didn’t seem terribly bothered by the closeness anyways.

“Fine, I give up,” you breathed, rolling off of him to stare at the ceiling of the car. “Let’s go to the pub.”

“Wonderful! I knew it was only a matter of time before you saw things my way,” he gloated, fixing his hat back on his head as he gave you a wink.

In one swift motion he jumped to his feet, pulling you up with him. Before you could even blink he dragged you to the back of the car and out onto the hitch connecting it to the next car. London was nothing but a blur as you steadied yourself against the movement of the train, the sun bleeding into the horizon. Soon enough the night would come alive with drunks, obnoxious songs, and bar scuffles, and you were going to be in the middle of it.

“Ladies first,” Jacob said, bringing you out of your thoughts with a nudge.

“Oh, please, by all means. I didn’t mean to be in your way,” you shot back, holding your hand out in front of you.

“How rude,” the young assassin replied with a touch of mock offense as he put his hand against his chest. “Does this mean you’ll buy me a drink?”

“I only buy drinks for pretty ladies,” you mocked back as you leaped off of the train, stumbling forward as your boots hit the tracks.

Jacob couldn’t help but stare for a moment, caught between admiration and disbelief. He had not meant to let himself become so fond of you. You were a comrade, a part of an Order he begrudgingly followed. Every little roll of your eyes, every argument, and every verbal jab only drew him in closer, and it made him anxious.

He cursed softly under his breath as he followed you. As he drew up alongside of you he made a mental note to take the blame for tonight’s little outing. No doubt Evie would be irritated if she came back and the both of you were gone, but for you he would take it - even if you would fight with him about it afterward.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A second part was requested, so I went ahead and whipped this up! Additional warnings: alcohol, light fluff, and I think that's it. I hope you enjoy!!

Your mind kept flitting back to the train and the research you had abandoned in the wake of your tussle with Jacob. The way his hands felt against you as he held you at bay, that stupid smirk he always had when he teased you – even the feeling of his body against yours – it was all intoxicating and thinking of it made you yearn for it. Now, however, you were hunched over the table nursing a nearly empty pint.

The pub had come to life progressively after you and Jacob had arrived, and now the drunken songs and shouts were spilling out onto the street. It was rather relaxing despite the chaos of several dozen drunk men. Perhaps Jacob was right – as much as you didn't want to admit it – you really needed a break from all the books and that stuffy train. 

“Pace yourself, love,” Jacob teased lightly as he sat down across from you, setting another pint down in front of you. 

You fixed him with a playful glare as you finished off the first pint before pushing it to the side in lieu of grabbing the second. “You're just afraid I'll out drink you, Mr. Frye,” you said, offering him your own smirk before taking a sip off of the mug. 

The young assassin scoffed as he set down his own mug gently. “Love, you couldn't possibly out drink me,” he taunted.

You wanted to smack that smirk off of his face as he settled against the chair, resting his arm along the back. There wasn't an hint of tension in the lines of his shoulders as he took another slow sip of his pint. If anything he looked completely at eased, and not the least bit worried, as his hazel eyes took a moment to drift over the sea of people. 

In an effort to distract yourself you quickly lifted your pint to your lips. Your throat tingled lightly as you knocked the rest of it back. A sense of warmth began to spread from your stomach up through your limbs, eventually coming to settle in your mind as it began to numb. 

Jacob raised a brow, but said nothing as he watched you slowly set the empty mug down to the first one. You could drink with the rest of them, but it was generally at a gradual pace – something you weren't in the mood for right now. Your mind kept flashing back to the train hours earlier, and the feelings bubbling up with it.

This was your best friend, the man you had vowed to fight alongside in the war against the Templar Order. The nature of your fight left no room for affection, though you had been secretly giddy about the budding romance between Evie and Henry – which was, of course, much to Jacob's chagrin. 

“Are you... alright?” Jacob's rough voice jolted you out of your thoughts. 

“What? Oh, um, yes,” you stammered, rubbing a hand over your face. “What do you say? I bet you ten shillings I can drink you under the table.”

The young assassin paused for a moment, unconvinced that you were telling him the truth as he gave you a hard look. It didn't last, however, and soon enough the edges of his lips turned upward into a smug smile. “You wish, love. Get the drinks,” he accepted, downing the rest of his pint before pushing it to the side. 

It took all you had to suppress a huge sigh of relief as you rose from your seat and moseyed over to the bar. There was an assortment of alcohols to choose from, and most of them looked rather appealing with the occasional shady bottle mixed in with the colorful labels. Eventually you settled on a nice whiskey, your eyes lighting up at the sight of the amber liquid sloshing around in the bottle as the bar keep handed it to you along with a pair of small shot glasses.

“Thank you, sir,” you said as you slipped him enough to cover the rest of the bottle.

“Fine choice,” Jacob commented, smirking as you returned to your seat, setting the bottle down gingerly. “Allow me.”

You couldn't help but return his smirk as he carefully poured the whiskey before setting the bottle just as gingerly to the side as you had. Not a drop of the precious drink had been spilled, leaving two perfectly measured out shots. Yours seemed to glare up at you from the table top, the light from the lamps reflecting sharply off of the glass.

“Cheers,” Jacob said before throwing his shot back. 

He licked his lips as he set the empty glass back down onto the table, looking incredibly pleased with himself. Not to be out done you flung your shot back just as quick, grimacing as the liquid slid down with a burn and sharp bite. You continued to exchange shots, but the fun didn't last long as you made it five in. Your stomach began to churn and your vision swam, though you couldn't help but feel giddy at the numbness in your face. This was the distraction you needed.

“I do believe that's ten shillings,” Jacob teased as you nearly knocked the shot glass off of the table in the heat of telling a good story.

“I can keep going,” you slurred stubbornly, offering him an adamant smile.

“I think that's enough, love,” he insisted gently.

You blinked rapidly in an effort to clear your vision as you jerked your gaze to his. Oh, so now he was being the responsible one? If you had been sober you would have laughed out of sheer disbelief that the great Jacob Frye was being reasonable.

“One more?” you pleaded, giggling uncontrollably as he frowned.

“No, I think that's quite enough,” he replied, standing firm against the pathetic look you had resorted to throwing his way. “Why don't we get you back to the train, hm?” 

You huffed a sigh as you relented, your head continuing to bob in a drunken nod. Your brow slowly creased into a frown as he gave a throaty chuckle before rising out of his seat, his hand coming to gently grab your upper arm.

“Up you go,” he encouraged, steadying you as you staggered out of the chair. 

Jacob seemed to be unaffected by the liquor, though you could smell the whiskey lingering from your drinking challenge. He kept his balance as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, leading you slowly towards the door through the throng of patrons. His gaze lingered as sharp as ever – or perhaps even sharper thanks to the whiskey – briefly ghosting over a group of Blighters and Rooks.

There was little doubt in his mind that in your current state you would happily start a brawl with the biggest Blighter you could find. At any other point he would have delighted in joining you in giving the opposing gang a good roughing up, but with you unable to do something so simple as standing he felt a sense of obligation to keep you safe. 

Ducking behind a tall Rook, he pulled you along until you were safely out of the pub and into the chilled night air. The gas lights were lit brightly along the street, which was empty save for the occasional staggering drunk and other suspicious characters. Jacob tugged you tightly against him, his warmth seeping into you as you threw your arm around his waist to steady yourself.

“We could have totally taken those Blighters!” you complained loudly.

Jacob hushed you softly. “And what were you going to do? Giggle them to death?” he asked with a smirk, arching a brow at you as you pushed away from him.

The cobblestones seemed to move out from underneath you as you stumbled a few feet. “Oh you're hilarious, sir. I could have fought them with my hands behind my back,” you protested, nearly tripping over nothing in the middle of the street. 

The young assassin shook his head as he watched you blindly and drunkenly stagger. “And you would have had a black eye to show for it,” he pointed out, catching you easily as you nearly fell to the street. “Easy, love, easy.”

“I can walk just fine on my own,” you growled, trying to straighten up despite his gentle but firm grip on you.

“Yes, of course, my mistake,” he said sarcastically, refusing to release you.

Your protests began to grow in volume as you tried to shrug him off, only for his grip to tighten in an equally stubborn response. At this point your legs were tired, your mind too numb to form a coherent thought, but that underlying spark kept you going. It wasn't until Jacob pulled you to the side of the street that you realized getting back to the train was going to be impossible. 

“Love, you aren't going to make it to the train like that. Here,” he said, only reinforcing the fact before turning his back to you as he bent his knees slightly. 

You had seen him do this multiple times with the orphans that lived under the care of the Rooks. They would always giggle and hop up onto his back and shoulders, more often than not using him as something to hang off of. The ease with which he played with the children always amazed you. Jacob Frye was a brawler, a warrior, and above all else, a hero amongst orphans. 

Relenting, you used his shoulders to hoist yourself up, your arms and knees wrapping around him to secure a rather unsteady hold. His arms looped easily under your knees to keep you securely against him before he continued walking down the street. The fight to remain conscious began, the edges of your vision slowly fading into a blurry black. Slowly your chin drooped until your cheek rested wearily against his shoulder.

“Evie is going to kill me,” you faintly heard him mumble. You were unable to force yourself to reply as the darkness began to creep in faster than before.

“You know, I really like you,” you muttered thickly into his shoulder.

The young assassin bit out a breathy chuckle. “And it took you a bit of whiskey to realize it, love?”

“Nooo,” you cooed. “I like you.”

Jacob fell silent, his brow creasing in thought. There were several things you could have meant by that, and he was unable to decide if it was you or the alcohol talking. As he opened his mouth to inquire he felt your breath fall into a more even rhythm against his back. It was a discussion that would have to happen in the morning.

 

Jacob couldn't help but breath a hearty sigh of relief as he reached the platform of the Ludgate Hill Station. The train was right where he thought it would be, a beacon of salvation as he carefully made his way from the top of the stairs to the metal step into the car. There wasn't a soul to be found as the assassin tenderly shook you enough to bring you out of your deep sleep.

“Hm?” you questioned, barely registering the feeling of your feet hitting the ground.

The assassin's hazel eyes stared at you with pity as he grabbed a glass and poured some water. “Drink this, love, and lay down,” he urged softly before leaving you to drink as carefully as possible.

With the cool liquid burning your belly, you allowed yourself to collapse onto the couch. Sleep had already taken over again as Jacob came back into the car. His hat and jacket had been put up in their usual spots free from dirt and the possibility of being destroyed. In his hands was a rather thick blanket, which he tenderly draped over your sleeping form. Oh so hesitantly, he leaned over, brushing your hair out of your face before laying a tender kiss against your head.

Your confession lay heavy in the front of his mind as he walked over to the chair and plopped down unceremoniously by the desk. His gaze lingered on your before drifting aimlessly to the dusty old book laying on the wooden desk top – ah, the silly little thing that had started your nighttime adventure.

He reached out a gloved hand and picked it up, flipping through the mildewy pages until he came across your hand writing so boldly marring the face of the page. It was all nonsense to him, a code only you could decipher. Still, he found himself slightly intrigued until he heard the light quick footsteps of his sister. Just in time.

“Jacob?” Evie asked, trying to hide the bewilderment in her voice.

“Sh, she's asleep,” he scolded quietly, pointing to you though clearly a herd of elephants wouldn't wake you.

“Were you out drinking?” 

Jacob bit back a sigh. “Now what would make you think that, dear sister?”

“You're reading and you smell like the pub.”

The younger twin scoffed quietly, shooting Evie an injured look as his cheeks flushed red. “I was helping. Now that you're here, however, I'll leave you to it,” he said, standing up before pressing the weathered book into his sister's hands.

Evie watched him walk to the opposite end of the car before allowing her gaze to drift down to the book in her hands, and then to you. Helping in a different way, I suppose. What have you done to get my brother so flustered? she mused.

It would have to wait until the morning, but she fully intended on having a conversation whether you were hungover or not. Now, about that Shroud.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the 3rd part! Sorry it took me so long to get out. I had a couple of ideas and this is the one that ended up working out. I hope you enjoy it!

The sun spilling in through the window was a ruder wake up call than anything Jacob could have done. You couldn't help but breathe out a low pained groan as you buried your face under the heavy blanket. The night came back in an unpleasant rush of flashbacks as you tried to calm the pounding in the back of your head. After a few minutes you mustered up the courage to pull the blanket back, poking your head into the uncomfortably cool air.

A glass of water sat on the desk opposite you, tempting you to move from your comfortable spot on the couch, though your headache was more than enough reason to stay buried in the warm embrace of the blanket. Eventually the need to wet your throat outweighed the headache as you slowly and methodically stood up and stumbled over to the desk. The water felt like salvation as it wet your lips, slipping smoothly down your throat as you gulped it down greedily.

Not far from you Jacob lay contently snoring, his hair no longer slicked back, but ruffled into an unruly mop by sleep. If it had been any other time you might have smiled deviously and done something to make him regret sleeping in. Now, however, you felt a weight pull against your heart, forcing you to turn on your heel.

You had several things to do today, and they provided an excuse to avoid Jacob and the impending conversation you two would have about the previous night. With the pounding in the back of your skull reminding you of your poor choices, you walked to the end of the train car and leaped out onto the tracks. The jolt of your boots against the ground did little to soothe your headache as you quickly took in where you were.

Whitechapel. Perfect. The small room you rented out wasn't far from the tracks, and you really needed to clean up. It didn't take you long to get to your humble abode, the promise of a warm bath particularly inviting. If you hadn't had things to do you would have lingered longer than it took to wash up. The steamy water had soothed the tension along your neck and shoulders, relieving your headache somewhat.

But, of course, there were Templars to hunt and information to retrieve, so you reluctantly hurried and dressed in fresh clothes before hitting the streets again. 

First stop – the orphans.

Babylon Alley, the haven for orphans all across the city. You took a deep breath before strolling over to the stairs. A group of the young children stood about playing some game they had invented, their shouts and squeals of excitement carried for several blocks. The noise ceased, however, as they noticed you walking towards them.

“Fancy seeing you here, miss!” a young voice piped up as a boy shot you a grin.

“Oliver, it's good to see you,” you greeted him, ruffling his hair.

The group of children swarmed you, tugging at your hands and jacket as they began to babble at you. Almost immediately you forgot the qualms of the previous night, now engaged in listening to everyone's stories as they told you about their day and the weird things they had seen. It was soothing being among such innocence; living on the streets hadn't yet hardened them, leaving the children optimistic and cheery.

“As much as I would love to stay, I'm here on business,” you said, offering them all a gentle smile.

The chatter calmed and the group began to disperse, some bidding you good bye as they ran off to cause trouble. Soon only Oliver remained, his watery blue eyes staring up at you with admiration and a hint of worry. You crouched down in front of him, offering him a few coins.

“Now, what have you heard?” you asked softly.

“I overheard something about heading to Westminster tomorrow after receiving a shipment, miss,” he replied, clutching the coin tightly in his little fists. “Important business with some fancy cargo, medicine I believe it was.”

You cursed quietly underneath your breath as you looked down at the stones. Even with the soothing syrup eliminated, you had found subtle hints of addictive medications making their way onto the market. Even though you had desperately tried to stem the rising tide of mindless addicts, the damn things kept sprouting up.

“Thank you, Oliver,” you said. “You've been a big help.”

“Oh, before you go, miss,” Oliver said, lightly touching your arm before turning away.

Your brow creased in curiosity as he picked something up and hurried back, holding a beautiful white daisy. Its petals were perfect, not a single one marred or missing from being handled. “What is this?” you asked quietly, taking it from him.

“He asked me not to say anything, miss,” Oliver replied. “Thank you for the coin.”

You stood up, ruffling his hair in a good bye before he scampered off to buy something with his new found money. Slowly your gaze trailed back down to the daisy, rolling it slowly between your fingers as if you could give you the answers you desired. Instead there was nothing but the bustle of the busy streets behind you, the rattling of cart wheels and the frenzied chatter of people bringing back the headache along the back of your head.

“I'm being ridiculous,” you muttered to yourself as you tucked the daisy delicately into your pocket.

You turned, the hair on the back of your neck immediately stood up, and a chill ran up your spine unpleasantly as you caught sight of Jacob pushing his way through the crowd. His head was down, his eyes searching for something, though you didn't intend to stick around to see what it was.

Gracefully, despite the renewed pounding in your head, you ducked down and crept through the crowd before slipping down another alley. This one was quiet, not a soul to be found even in the doorways that dotted the brick walls. Perfect. Next stop, the police station.

 

 

The police station was quiet today, save for the unhappy prattling of detainees shouting their innocence to all those who would hear it. You offered the Sergeant a smile as he handed you a set of papers, his mustache twitching with annoyance. “And to think you want me to bring more of this in,” you joked, gesturing to the cell filled with unruly criminals.

Freddie sighed heavily before offering you a smile of his own. You could see the lines of stress in his face, the endless nights awake while ridding the city of crime one borough at a time. It made you grateful that you had him as an ally, and grateful that he had taken the time out of his schedule to meet with you.

“Of course, Ms. [Y/L/N], although I'm starting to second guess my request,” he said lightly, grimacing as you heard the distinct sound of a man retching in the corner of the cell.

You winced, your smile turning sympathetic. “My sincere apologies, Sergeant,” you offered, folding the papers before sliding them into a pocket hidden on the inside of your jacket. “With that I must be off.”

“Of course, but one moment if you'd please,” Freddie said, stopping you with a motion of his hand.

“Of course, sir,” you agreed, turning towards the Sergeant curiously.

“This was left for you,” he said, presenting you with another white daisy, its petals just as pristine as the one Oliver had given you.

The edges of your lips drooped in a confused frown as you took it from him, turning it over. “Thank you. Do you by any chance know who left this?” you inquired, your eyes flitting up to Freddie's.

“I couldn't say,” he replied, smiling slightly as you snorted unhappily.

“I see... well, I appreciate it. I'll keep an eye out for the men we discussed. Good day, Sergeant,” you said, bidding him farewell as you neatly put the daisy in your pocket with the first one.

“And to you, Ms. [Y/L/N],” he said, tipping his hat to you as you turned and climbed out of the window. The frustration in your retreating form made the Sergeant chuckle lightly despite the mess that now needed cleaning up.

Bloody Assassins.

 

 

The last stop of the day brought you to the doors of one of the Rook hideouts. It didn't look like much at the moment – just a cute little building set at the edge of London along the Thames. With all of the other things going on in the city there had been little time to renovate what the Blighters had destroyed, but it still served its purpose as a shelter for the gang.

You knocked on the door, waiting for one of the lookouts to open it for you. It didn't take long once they caught sight of you, several warmly inviting you in, their smiles causing you to peer at them suspiciously. Not wanting to waste the effort, you left it alone, and walked hurriedly along to the large Rook brute standing near one of the various windows overlooking the Thames.

“George,” you greeted pleasantly. “I don't suppose you have those inventory rosters for me?”

The large bald Rook fixed you with a subtle smile as he pulled another stack of papers off of a nearby table, holding them out to you. The smile didn't seem to budge from his face as you took them, quickly scanning over the contents. It all looked standard until you reached the bottom, where you noted a few strange looking items. Oliver had been right.

“Have you verified these last few?” you asked.

“We aren't exactly certain, miss. It appears to be a drug of some kind, opium based perhaps,” he said, shrugging slightly.

“That's what I was afraid of. Very well. It looks like these ships will be coming in tonight, so be prepared,” you said, taking the papers that were of most interest before placing the rest back onto the table. “I need to speak to Jacob about it, but I'm sure he will want to destroy it before it makes it to the streets.”

The thought of having to talk to the assassin today made you want to cringe, but you kept it expertly hidden behind the forced smile you gave the Rook. If he noticed he didn't say anything, instead opting to nod in agreement.

“Of course, miss. Before you go, this was left for you,” he said, grabbing another daisy, much to your dismay.

This time you couldn't stop the exasperated sigh that forced itself from your lips, your fingers gingerly reaching out to take it from him. It was just as beautiful and perfect as the other two, leaving you to wallow in despair. You had an idea exactly who these flowers were from, and you really didn't want to deal with it right now. But there was no sense putting off the inevitable, so you pocketed it, and nodded to the large Rook.

“Thank you, George. Don't forget - tonight,” you said, waving good bye.

“Certainly. We will see you then,” he said, raising his hand in a returned farewell.

Turning on your heel you all but stalked out of the house, determination and frustration settling in your stomach tightly. The man could be just about anywhere in that godforsaken city, and you weren't sure where to even start. A pub would probably be the best place, but with the hundreds littered throughout London it was taking a stab in the dark.

As you rounded the corner you nearly collided with a tall strong form, causing you to stumbled back a few steps.

“Are you finished avoiding me, love?” Jacob's rough voice crooned as he steadied you.

Immediately you brushed him off, running your hands down the front of your jacket as all of your determination fled in the face of the younger Frye twin. “I don't know what you're talking about. I've been running around all day,” you lied, inwardly grimacing at how lousy it sounded now that you said it.

Jacob snorted in disbelief, his own brow knitting together in a frown. “Oh is that what you're calling it now?” he asked.

“I don't suppose you've been doing the same then, hm?” you shot back, the frustration returning. “Or following me perhaps. Why was there a flower at every stop today, Jacob?”

You folded your arms against your chest, fixing the other assassin with an unnerving stare as he began to rub the back of his neck nervously. It was the first uncertain gesture you had ever seen from him, and it only made you more curious as he struggled to find the words. Jacob Frye speechless – you never thought you would see the day.

“I thought you might like them,” he said, shrugging slightly.

“So you spent the entire day leaving a trail of them for me?” you pushed, seeing the sweat beginning to bead across his forehead beneath his hat.

“Well, yes - Evie suggested it, really. She said you had been looking at that pressed flower book with her and these were your favorite,” he admitted, his own frustration beginning to show in the lines of his face.

“The Templars are going to be offloading a shipment of medicine, which I've been tracking all day. I could have used your help,” you snapped, your hand moving out to point across the choppy water of the Thames.

“Well, you've been avoiding me now, haven't you?” he pointed out.

“It's not exactly difficult to-”

I like you! I thought you might like a few flowers while running your boring errands,” he blurted suddenly, the realization hitting him as soon as the words slipped past his lips. Unable to take them back, he groaned quietly under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose as if he were beginning to develop the same headache you had drilling in the back of your skull.

“I... You... What?” you sputtered, your eyes meeting his in disbelief.

The frustration had slowly melted away in the wake of his confession, the both of you staring at each other. Taking a deep breath, the younger Frye twin let it out slowly, as if he were weighing what he was about to say or do – once again something you never thought you would see from the haughty assassin.

The silence was almost deafening as you stared him in complete disbelief. At first you weren't sure what to think. Evie had noticed right away the way you looked at her brother. She had asked you about it, pushed really, but you had always brushed her off. You were certain that he would never feel the same. He was too busy off running about terrorizing Templars – and indirectly London – to really notice the way you smiled when he entered the room, or the way you stood close to him.

Which was hilarious, considering he always teased Evie about Henry. Or maybe he had noticed and just hadn't said anything until now. But now that you were faced with his confession, you weren't sure what to say, and it was slowly eating away at you.

Jacob took the initiative instead and gently grabbed onto the collar of your jacket, pulling you flush against his chest. His lips found yours softly, taking rather than asking, as his other hand traveled up to just under your ear, cupping your cheek. You hesitated, slightly taken aback by the sudden intimacy, but slowly you returned the affections. Your lips moved against his, quickening as he deepened it. 

He smelled lightly of mint, leather, and gunpowder – a combination that you had come to enjoy over time the longer you worked together. His warmth only made it more enticing, a light in the darkness, salvation. You faintly tasted the mint on his tongue as he pulled away, leaving you yearning for more.

Jacob smirked as his hand fell away, reaching into his pocket to pull out one last daisy, though this one looked a little more well loved than the other three. Its petals were slightly bent, but it still held its charm and its beauty as he held it out to you.

“Thank you,” you murmured, taking it from him delicately.

“Are you upset?” he asked, brushing your hair out of your face.

“No,” you admitted. “I'm sorry for avoiding you.”

“All water under the bridge, love,” he said, brushing your apology aside. “Why don't we make some Templars disappear and have a little bit of fun?”

His breath fluttered softly against your cheek as his lips trailed along your jaw to your neck, causing you to giggle quietly at the tickle. “They're importing opium-based medicine again,” you said, gently threading your fingers through the hair at the base of his neck.

A rush of air blew across your neck as the young assassin sighed dramatically and grunted unhappily into your shoulder. You couldn't help but smile as he began to grumble under his breath before straightening up. He gently trailed his fingers along your chin before taking your hand in his. His hands were much larger, but just as gentle as he looked at the street.

“Let's give them a taste of their own medicine, then shall we?” he said.

“I thought you might say that. George is going to be at the docks tonight when the shipment comes in,” you agreed.

Jacob's eyes gleamed mischievously. “Were you going to rob them blind without me?” If you hadn't noticed the slight inflection in his tone you might have thought he'd been insulted.

“Well, I was thinking about asking Henry.”

You grinned as Jacob scoffed loudly and began to lead you towards the street. “Let's grab a pint and you can tell me all about your plan.”

“Jacob Frye wants to listen to a plan?”

“I never said I was going to follow it.”

You breathed out a chuckle and followed him, realizing he was taking the path to one of his favorite pubs, the very one that had gotten you into this mess in the first place.

“And I do believe you owe me ten shillings,” Jacob said, glancing at you over his shoulder as you brought your attention back to him.

“How about a drink instead?” you offered.

“A drink now and a drink after.”

“Deal.”


End file.
